Grieving for Sacrifice
by Fang323
Summary: Warning: Do NOT read unless you have seen HetaOni.  Please. America's reaction to England's sacrifice.


Hey there, Fang here.

I reminded people about reading this fic in the summary, but I know people are still going to ignore it.

But please! DO NOT read this unless you have seen HetaOni, at least up to Part 16, #2! Please!

...sigh...even that might not deter you...well. I asked for it when I published it.

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><p>"England…"<p>

"I'm sorry, America….I can no longer see."

England, though he couldn't notice America, could have guessed in one try America's expression. He stared off into the utter nothingness that had replaced his vision.

His magic had backfired, he finally told himself. He had known it since casting that last spell, as the last of his magic drained out of him and he was left with only himself to give. Even as the world grew dimmer around him, he refused to acknowledge the truth, because it was too horrifying and scary to admit. It was just the monster disappearing, defeated, he told himself. The Thing, and….Everything else around it…

But afterwards, nothing reappeared. He heard Italy and America talking…they were somewhere ahead of him, but he couldn't be sure. Still slightly in shock from the lack of one of his most important senses, along with the immense drain on his magical abilities, all he could bring himself to do was to manage out a weak 'y-yeah' and try to look down at his feet.

Italy…Italy he could probably fool for a time, but America…Alfred…would be able to see though him right away. #!*% , his sight had to come back, and soon…now, if possible! He prayed silently, but neither a glimpse of light nor a flutter of shadow danced in front of his eyes.

Italy left to check the opposing room for something.

Germany, Japan, and Prussia rushed in and then promptly rushed out to find Italy.

England was alone with his little brother.

The glasses…the blasted glasses…if England had known that the monster had dropped them right next to him he could have picked them up, saved himself a few extra minutes before America looked into his eyes and saw the truth. But the world wasn't born from could-haves and should-haves, and America was smarter than he looked.

He heard fast footsteps coming his way, coming to a hasty stop just in front of him. Every sound was so much clearer, sharper to his ears, desperately trying to make up for the loss of sight. Most noticeably was America's slightly panting breath, either from the lack of the adrenaline rush or from…shock.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

America asked him about the fingers. The Brit leaned away from the force in America's words. England knew he couldn't hide it anymore; from America, or from himself. America's voice was shaking so badly, as if he were incredulous and scared at what England had sacrificed. England felt the same shiverings, but America's weakness gave him an odd sort of strength. For his brother's sake, he steadied his quavering voice.

He repeated what he said. "I can no longer see."

England stiffens, hair falling into his useless eyes as America places his hands on his shoulders, turning him so that he is facing his brother's form. England twists his head away, closing his eyes and hiding his face.

"England."

England doesn't respond.

"England…look at me."

England raises up his shield of sarcasm. "Well, now, that would be a little bloody hard to accomplish, considering the cir –"

"Arthur."

At the use of his new, _human_ name, England pauses, gritting his teeth. He may not be able to see, but he can hear the plea in America's voice. He can feel the trembling hands steadying themselves on his shoulders

"Look. At. Me."

Heart heavy, he lifts his head to what he assumes to be Alfred's level, and stares straight ahead.

He does not need to know what America has seen in his blank eyes. The sharp, choked gasp from his brother gives him more information than he needs. As does the stifled sob America swallows as he pulls England into a crushing embrace.

England feels America bury his face into his shoulder and tighten his arms around his lithe body. The American is shaking silently, but this time, England can't think of anything to comfort him.

The shoulder of his uniform is growing wet under America's head.

England can't hold it in.

He reaches up and grabs fistfuls of America's jacket tight in his hands, trying to tether himself onto some sort, any sort of lifeline. He stares up over America's shoulder, noticing the terrifying nothing he is faced with. The same wetness on his jacket now stutters down his face.

He is blind.

England is petrified with overwhelming fear, and struggles to hold onto America as best he can, the only thing connecting him to the world he once lived in. The world that existed to him before the darkness advanced and took his strength and light.

There is nothing else the two brothers can do except hold on.

Eventually, America pulls himself a little more together, and England feels him lift his head from his shoulder. Still holding England's arm in a death grip, he reaches down and picks his glasses up off the floor with a clink of metal against tile. England feels America adjust his grip on his upper arm, and then wrap his other arm around England's torso. Gently, his little brother leads him out of the room and towards the safe room a couple floors up. England begins to walk forward into the impending darkness that has no end and no beginning. The two brothers are silent. Only a few words are spoken:

"Watch that floorboard."

"Careful, England."

"Stairs are here."

"Hold on, England."

"We're almost there."

"I'm still here, England."

"I'm not going anywhere."

England is quiet the whole way, listening to America's slightly trembling voice, trying to gain some small amount of strength into his mind. He holds onto America's arm, as if to assure himself that he really is still there.

He has no reason to worry. America's touch is soft, but firm as a rock.

England is blind. But he still sees.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Wow, two fics in one day...I know, what a shocker for me! But hey...I'm not gonna publish til next weekend...Better do it now...

I just noticed that in HetaOni, she didn't show a scene about America's reaction to England's sacrifice...So I wrote it in. If she does actually continue HetaOni, Which for the love of all that's holy I hope she does, I will be a happy Fang!

...England...why must you be so damn self-sacrificing...

If you went on and read this without knowing what was going on...shame on you...but eh. Go and watch it if this piqued your interest. If you don't cry before episode 10, there is something wrong with your brain or your tear-ducts.

Anyway, No more fic til next weekend...sorry!

-Fang


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